✝ Victoria 'Vic' Nightingale | Sixteen
From Salem, Massachusetts 
Her special power is Pyrokinesis - the ability to control fire with the mind 
Style: Dark bohemian 
Bio: Victoria grew up in Salem, MA, completely immersed in her witchy heritage. Her family raised her to appreciate being a witch, but to their dismay, her powers did not emerge. Instead, Vic satisfied herself with idle pursuits like popularity and boys - men, even. One day, she was discovered with the local preacher man. In a compromising way. What happened next left her parents only one choice: to send her to New Orleans, to a real school, a place she could learn to control her powers. You see, the person who witnessed that crime was a high school classmate. And when Vic noticed the girl? Well, that poor girl spontaneously burst into flames. And so did the preacher. Now, Vic has to get used to the different atmosphere here. She's used to getting her way with everyone - especially men. But in a house full of strong-willed girls, where will she find her place?
Model: Nastya Kusakina

✝ Second Choice/Third Choice: Madeline or Poppy, unclear about order.

✝ Story (warning - graphic??)

It wasn't so much the preacher's fault. After all, she was beautiful, and flawless. Gorgeous beyond belief, and oh, cruel too; how he knew these things so well. But one day, she appeared to him, that naughty little red church dress, and said, Oh, please, will you tell me how to say God's name? And in return, he said, No, I can't, repeating it over and over until it was no longer a word he could pronounce. No. No. Yes. Yes.

He found himself in her eyes, in the tight curves of her waist, her neck. Warmth. He laid himself on top of her body, pressing them closer and closer. He was not an old man; too young still to recognize what was so wrong about this, what he should not have done. And he did teach her how to say the Lord's name, but listened to her moan it into his neck; he tried to ignore the way that felt, how wrong it was, how sinful and awful. All he could feel was her.

There was a gasp outside, and he barely managed to turn his head. After all, it was so warm, so soft; a caress on his cheek or her teeth on his neck, or maybe even her hands, wandering lower and lower...no. He did turn, and there he saw a girl, maybe Victoria's age...and then, all of a sudden, he felt it stop. Everything. Complete stillness. Silence. Not even Victoria breathed. He saw her blink once, malice burning in her eyes, the seduction gone. And then the burning was real, it was flames, and they were swallowing his body whole, tearing him apart. He could not speak, could not cry the name of his savior; he knew this was his punishment, and he did not dare even try for redemption.


Victoria extricated herself carefully from his body, the messy tangle of burnt limbs that had once been a man. It had not been the preacher she had meant to hurt; he was a cute distraction, a nice toy to play with. But Cassidy. Cassidy Williams...God, did Victoria hate her. And so when she saw her standing at that door, knowing that the gasp she'd just heard meant the end of her freedom, her life, her reputation? God, it just made her so mad. Burned her up, it did - really burned her up. Or, she snickered, it burned Cassidy up. Depends on how you looked at it. Yeah. It really burned Cassidy up.
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